The House Rangers: They're Not All Dead
by Jeran
Summary: Our favorite and only team of Power Rangers of PPTH are back, with a new enemy this time. A big one. No, really, it's Vogler and he hasn't lost any weight.
1. Prologue

Author's note: Hey, this is a sequel to The House Rangers, so go read it if you haven't. If you have, _shut up I'm doing a sequel_. And look. A prologue. And a chapter title. A REAL ONE.

-----------

**The Return of ..._oh wouldn't you like to know._**

The 'Power Ranger' incident had taken place at least a few months ago, or 'when that psycho Dr. House launched an attack on the whole hospital wearing a dumbass hat', as that was what it was called by the rest of the staff. Yes, everyone remembered it. Yes, they stayed away from House.

Wilson had convinced the other doctors that House had threatened to kill him if he didn't play along so he could gain his reputation back; and really, House didn't mind, this only upped his reputation. Wilson still ate lunch with House, and hung around because it seemed oncology wasn't a very big business, was it?

Foreman was still seeing a therapist, mainly because of that elephant. Linda had followed him, after the final showdown, and the fluffy elephant was now locked in his basement. Rather loud elephant, really. He had tried to call Animal Control, but apparently, 'help, there's a fluffy pink elephant in my basement who wants to marry me' did not merit anything whatsoever. In fact, they laughed and said the loony bin was down the street. He yelled back at them, 'no, it's up the street...and there's an elephant in my basement!' but they had hung up.

Chase took it upon himself to 1) keep everything 'normal' in the office, and 2) get Cameron to go on a date with him.

None of which he succeeded in.

Cameron, in addition to angrily and meanly denying Chase, kind of lurked around, like usual, bothering House and Wilson about various un-ethical decisions and unethical decisions House was making, respectively. She wore more yellow, which was slightly disturbing because, really, Cameron, it is not your color, alright?

Cuddy, smartly, ignored that the whole thing ever happened, and after a month, gave House clinic duty back. Not a lot, but clinic duty is clinic duty. And gave clinic to the rest of his team; including Wilson, because she couldn't remember what she hired him for in the first place...was it the hair...? Anyway. She was not as evil, which was getting boring, but if House had to say anything, he'd say, "I need a sandwich." But if he'd have anything to say on the Cuddy subject, he'd say, "I'd say she's gaining forces and more evilness. Can I have a sandwich?"

House still donned the hat, even during clinic hours, and his patients found it either a) annoying b) awesome or c) sexy, depending on age, gender, and sexual preference. Majority found it c. He knew, he had made Wilson take a poll.

Wilson, too, wore the hat, except when he actually had work to do, which is to say, a lot of the time. The sad thing was, oh, oh, his hair. After many assuring from nurses that his hair looked fine under the hat, he wore it more often., because not like _he had a job_ or anything.

Chase kept his hat in a pocket of his white coat, as if always ready to be a Power Ranger. So did Cameron, and Foreman had put his hat on top of the coffee pot, in case of emergency.

And they had better need it.

Because a new enemy had arrived at the hospital.

One just as evil as Cuddy, and dare we say it? More evil, more powerful, richer, more...more...well, bigger...

If you haven't guessed by now, it's Vogler, alright?

There goes _his _great intro...

--------

AN: So, yeah, it's short, it's a prologue. Wilson-bashing, yaay. Anyway. Look. VOGLERR. If there's no first season fans, you won't like it. But I love Vogler. So evil. Can't remember what happened to him; someone fill me in? Oh. Something with..the board...Wilson loosing his job (what job, again?) for House, Cuddy standing up for House, Chase tattling on House (but Chase is so pretty!), etc etc. But where'd he go? VOGLER? WHERE ARE YOU?

And now I'm asking you to review, because I am absolutley and positivley unsecure in my writing and dependant on my fans.

Suggestion, too, are wonderful. CAAKE.


	2. Look, A Vogler

Author's Note: So, right, first chappie here; and oh hey it's short I know, but look. A Vogler. And boxes.

-----------

Unsurprisingly, Cameron was hanging out around House's office, watching him and Wilson. Why? _Because she's Cameron_. She had noticed Wilson left, shuffling some files on the way out, and House pick up his phone and call someone. She caught Wilson after he exited House's office and asked him, "Who is House calling?"

Wilson glanced up at her, then at his surroundings, leant in and whispered, "His dealer, got him on speed-dial." in a such a mocking tone it might have been impossible for her not to note the sarcasm if she wasn't Cameron.

She blinked, "His drug dealer?"

Wilson rolled his eyes, "No, he's hiring an intern..." in the same tone, but more tired.

"House is hiring an intern?"

At this point Wilson blankly stared at her, his eyes wide. "God, Cameron." He shook his head and left, apparently to do nothing.

Cameron pouted. She hated it when people made fun of her; especially Wilson. She was determined to know who House was talking to.

Chase, wandering the halls, stopped and smiled happily at Cameron. "Hey, Cameron, are you busy later?"

Immediately, she answered, "Yes." still staring into House's office.

"Oh. I was just going to ask--"

"No." She said it in a monotone voice meant to discourage the Australian, but he just shrugged and aimlessly wandered off.

A hassled looking Foreman showed up, with bags under his eyes, looking like he hadn't slept in days.

"Hey, Foreman." Cameron said absentmindedly, watching House smile as he spoke to someone on the phone. Her rage grew.

"Caaameron." He moaned.

She looked at him oddly then turned back to face House's office.

House, still chatting away, caught this movement and saw Cameron gazing at him, and got up, with a funny look on his face, to close the blinds.

Cameron frowned, mumbled something, and skulked off.

Foreman fixed his tie and followed after her, intent on getting someone to get rid of that damn elephant in his damn basement, damnit.

------

"I have a stalker." House stated over the phone.

"Do you, Greg, that's nice, dear." His mom replied, not even listening to her son.

"Yeah. Remember Cameron?"

"Of course, Greggie."

"Mom."

"Yes, Greggie?"

"Don't call me that, please?"

"Why not?"

"Because..." He paused, and realized his pager was beeping. "Never mind. I gotta go now, Mom. Love you."

"Love you, too, Greggie." His mom replied, and with a kissing sound, hung up.

Now House remembered why he didn't call his mom often, but her birthday was a while ago and he hadn't called so he figured it would be nice.

He put his phone down and looked at his pager. It was something from Wilson, and showed, "**EMERGEN**" but no more then that and that didn't make any sense at all, what was wrong with Wilson to said him a page that said EMERGEN? And so House shrugged and got another page. "**CY**." OH! **EMERGENCY**, okay, he got that. But where, he wondered? "**BASE**" another page said, and so he got up and headed towards the base, wondering why they were meeting in the secret base.

Wilson, looking horrorstruck, was pacing back and forth through the base and tripping over boxes. Chase and Foreman and Cameron were there, too. Chase and Cameron, sitting down; Foreman, laying down. Chase had his head in his hands, muttering stuff. Foreman, looking no worse then usual these days, was apparently trying to sleep. Cameron, her eyes wide with shock, was hyperventilating.

"Okay, who got killed?" House surveyed all of them, and then entered the room, shut the door, and realized everything from their last Power Ranger mission was still there, including the flashlights and the boxes.

The boxes sobbed, why did no one come to see them? WHYY?

At the same time, everyone but Foreman tried to explain it, but House only caught one thing.

"Vogler---_back_."

House adopted the same horror-struck look as Wilson, and, loosing his balance, grabbed for the wall and sank down to the ground, taking on the same despondent actions as Chase. But no hyperventilating like Cameron, because that's _girly_.

-----------

Edward Vogler smiled upon entering Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, where he had once reigned with little resistance. And, then, Gregory House ruined it all. Just the name of the diagnostician made him go into a fiery rage. He stopped smiling, but after a nurse fainted when seeing him, he kept on smiling. Another nurse fainted. He felt like snapping one of their necks like a twig, and oh, how he wanted to, just being here made him so angry he could. But he told himself to wait to attack. Find House. Find his team. Find his boyfrie--_er_, Wilson. And then attack.

The thought of the glory to come made him so excited, he laughed maniacally, standing there in the elevator. The elevator rumbled dangerously and the man in there with him pushed the stop button and scampered from him, whimpering.

First, find Cuddy.

Sure, she was, in the end, one of the reasons he left, but, she, just like him, had a particular disliking for Gregory House. And maybe he could find some assistance for her.

Vogler grinned, showing pearly white teeth that screamed I HAVE GOOD DENTAL HYGIENE, but also, I AM EVIL. But mostly I HAVE GOOD DENTAL HYGIENE. It's a very good trait, to be sure.

Revenge. Revenge, he told himself, comes to those who wait.

And maybe a sandwich from the cafeteria.

Turkey on white bread with cucumbers and mustard...and, oh, revenge. That, too. Sandwich and revenge, could it get any better?

Yes, it could.

WITH A COLD GLASS OF PEPSI AND A CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE.

And maybe some cake...

Oh, he decided, heading toward the cafeteria, revenge can wait for a while. He needed food. After all, you can't have revenge on your greatest foe, something you've been obsessing, dreaming, and waiting for since you met said foe, on an empty stomach, now can you? No, you _can'_t.

------

"Vogler's back?" House weakly said, in a momentary lack of his pompous arrogance and annoying-ness.

"Yeah." Chase said in a hoarse whisper, and then resumed his mumbling.

House started mumbling, too, but it seemed more coherent then Chase's, like he was making plans of some sort. His eyes lost the temporary shock look and took on the scheming look, instead.

Which slightly worried anyone who noticed, but no one did, so no one noticed.

"_The_ Vogler? Edward Vogler? Big, rich...er, **big**?" Chase looked up to Wilson to make sure that, yes, this was the correct Vogler.

"Yeah. _The_ Vogler." Wilson stated and, stopping his pacing, sat down across from House, and started lightly bumping his head against the wall.

"Oh." Chase paused. "**Damn**."

Wilson agreed, nodding.

Cameron seemed to take a different approach, quitting the hyperventilating and piping up with, "Er, well, maybe he's here to...ah...apologize...or not do anything evil." in her optimistic voice.

Everyone stared. Even Foreman lifted his head to blink at her, drop his head again, and groan, "I need a drink."

"Well." House remarked, and glanced around. "So we have an idiot optimistic, a drunk, and a very unsure kangaroo." He sighed. "Great."

There was another one of the pauses that they seem to have a lot do but nothing to say. Very common among these people. Wilson continued banging his head against the wall; the boxes gathered around him and tried to stop him, but Wilson ignored them. Chase kept on with his incoherent mumbling and head shaking. Cameron sat there, pouting. Foreman snored. House decided that sitting around doing nothing was very unhelpful and was trying to make a plan. Although if he'd learned from previous experience, plans did not work because this was a long process and nobody wants it explained again, alright?

Finally someone noticed House being schemy and that glint in his eyes that suggested something complicated, difficult, and bound to either ruin them or succeed triumph.

"House..." Wilson began, gazing at him through the semi-darkness with wide eyes. "What are you...doing?"

"Planning." He replied happily, smiling.

This did nothing to raise any of their hopes.

In fact, Chase closed his eyes and said, "Oh God, _noo_..." and Cameron looked up, interested, losing the pouty unhappy Cameron look that everyone knew so well.

"Planning?" Wilson echoed quietly.

"Planning." House reassured them, nodding with that same smile.

"As Power Rangers we defeated the treacherous Queen Bansheera, and who says that we can't defeat the even-more treacherous Diabolico?" He asked them dramatically, gaining the other well-known but hardly-seen glint in his eyes, the one that said, 'power rangers!'.

"Uh, security?" Chase said, obviously distressed about this.

"Cuddy?" Cameron interjected hopefully.

"The lack of alcohol?" Foreman asked, now awake.

"Our consciences, the fact we have jobs, what they said?" Wilson commented.

"WRONG ANSWER. The correct answer is nothing. Nothing will stop us." House stood up while saying this, and although it took a minute or two for them to stand up, he finished, standing on wobbly legs, and yelled, "POWER RANGER POWER!"

The cries of joy and agreement did not come as he hoped.

The groans and yells of disappointment did come, however.

----

AN: I know you love me; show me, REVIEW.

I beg, once again, for suggestions.

And point out any typos. I don't re-read it, usually, sometimes I wonder if a beta would be a good idea. Then again, sometimes I wonder what kind of world it would be if we had no brussel sprouts. (actually, not so bad, 'ccording to my calculations)


	3. Chapter 2: Nothing Much

Author's Note: Well here you are, a short chapter. Go me? No.

----------

"But I don't wanna be a Power Ranger again...the Pink one, at least."

"It was stupid the first time and it'll be stupid the second time. And the third time. And the fourth. The fifth, maybe not so stupid. Or the sixth. But then at the seventh, again, it'll be stupid. ALRIGHT?"

"It was kinda fun, yeah, but, uh, Chase was kidnapped by nurses...uh, maybe we can avoid people getting kidnapped this time? That would make it...uh, better."

Chase, Foreman, and Cameron each represented their opinions, respectively.

And House ignored all of them, instead popping a few Vicodin because without them he would DIE!

Wilson, deciding something needed to be done, started to clean up the base, putting all the garbage in one corner and all the stuff they could use in a neat little pile and the boxes in certain places and then the flashlights in their places before he realized_ everyone was staring at him_.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"Dude." Was all House had to say, with his WTF look.

"It's messy. God, I was just cleaning up..."

Keep that up, Wilson, and you'll be the Pink Ranger."

Wilson took this as a serious threat and sat down, blushing and hanging his head in obsessive-compulsive neatfreak shaaaame.

"In any case..." House began, shifting his gaze between Rangers, "We need a plan of action."

"Oh those never work out, House." Foreman said loudly.

"He's right, you know." Chase added.

"I KNOW, CHASE." House shouted and Chase flinched.

"Don't yell at me."

"WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS. Red Rangers can yell at any other Rangers--"

"EXCEPT the Blue Ranger." Wilson interjected.

"--except the Blue Ranger unless the Blue Ranger happens to be acting like a freaking GIRL. But, yes, the yelling. AND NEW RULES."

"OH GOD NO, House."

"Shut up, Chase. THE RULES ARE...to be discussed later because the Vicodin's taking effect and I can't remember what's going on...wait, did I mention, plan of action?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, we don't have one."

"Should we?"

"Whatever, guys."  
--------------

Vogler had cornered another doctor in the cafeteria, describing to him howe exactly he was doing to destroy House.

"--and then I'll ruin his marriage and make his children hate him--"

"Er," the man put in quietly, "I don't--don't think H-house has...any family...?"

Vogler stopped and made his 'oh damn' face while eating.

"Well. What does he have then?"

In fear for his life (and his lunch), the man gave up every single thing he knew about Dr. Gregory House. Even going so far as to, you know, exaggerate a bit, saying that House had flings with a bunch of doctors here, male and female, and that leg didn't slow him down one bit and both Cameron and Cuddy had been his lovers and he'd been divorced countless times and hung out at strip clubs and didn't water plants and clubbed baby seals and strangled kitties and fraudilized his tax returns.

Diabolico believed him and then bought some more cupcakes.

---------

Queen Bansheera had recovered from the Power Ranger incicent a while ago, had re-asigned clinic duty to them, and had resumed the routine of being mean and bitchy at all possible times.

She had been expecting something to happen; after all, House couldn't stay quiet for long, he was like a volcano. A giant volcano. A KILLER volcano. One that erupts at the most unexpected moments and then stayed quiet for a while and then exploded again. CASUALTIES. _HUNDREDS OF THEM._

Cuddy sighed.

She needed to go to a different hospitals...another state...another country...another continent...another world, for God's sake.

She needed a miracle.

Thankfully, one was coming her way.

Eventually. After lunch.

----------

The Red Ranger tossed a potato at the Black Ranger.

Both of them wondered where the potato came from, but mostly the Red Ranger because the Black Ranger was too pre-occupied with _being hit_ with the potato.

"Damn, House!' Foreman cussed, rubbing his arm where the potato hit.

"Whaat?" House whined and found another potato, looking bewildered.

"Potato!" Foreman yelled.

"Where'd these come from, I wonder?" House wondered aloud.

Cameron looked up and helpfully said, "You told me to get them, remember?"

He stared blankly at her. "No."

She frowned.

Wilson, sitting alone, snickered.

She glared at him.

He stuck his tongue out at her, because nyaah nyaah Cameron who has better hair _AND_ tenure?

---------

"YES! I will destroy House! And that other one; the one with the hair who follows House. W...w...whatever. I shall destroy him and the blonde one and the black one and the little whiny one...the brunnete little whiny one, not the blonde little whiny one, I can see where yoyu would be confused..but on with the destroying; yes, both of them...mhmm. **VOGLER HUNGRY**...**VOGLER EAT**."

--------

"House, shouldn't you be getting on with that plan of action thing?" Chase asked, running a hand through his hair. Cameron watched, entranced by his hair, and really, who could blame her.

"Not at the moment..." House said. He glanced up at the empty wall and figured he wanted a giant map of the USA pinned up. And then he'd get pushpins and pin them certain places. Although why he wanted to, he hadn't figurded that out yet. He was sure he'd find a reason. He always did for things like this. He was good at finding use for useless things. He did, after all, hire Chase. And Cameron. Foreman was different. Sometimes he felt as if he growing a mini-House; a mini-ature version of himself in Foreman. Slightly disturbing, yet he became oddly proud and encouraged such things like 'ignoring ethical codes' and 'ignoring surperiors' and 'patients have no feelings'. It would seem to be working, lately, but House was always wary should to plan backfire on him.

Hmm. About that map. He'd need a pushpin in Vegas, of course, and where they lived and New York and Miami and Atlanta and L.A. and Spokane and Seattle and Chicago and Philidelphia and Kansas City and Washington DC and Lewiston...his inane planning was interupted by Cameron, who poked him and said, "Why not planning of actions now?"

"Because it'll be a while before Vogler finds us. 1) he's big, he doesn't move well. 2) he stops to eat, like, every 20 minutes. 3) he likes steak and the cafeteria's all out, so he'll be waiting a while. And 3) did I mention the elevators are broken down?"

"No."

"Oh, okay, because they are and he doesn't like stairs."

"Well I don't like stairs either, House." Foreman stated with a blank stare at House.

House returned the stare and frowned.

"Uh. Okay...let's...let's get a map. Cameron, go get a map. Chase, get pushpins. Foreman, go have a sandwich and stop acting so weird.

Wilson, we're going to talk to Cuddy."

"You're kidding, right?" Wilson said, as all of them got up and wandered around, wondering what to do as if House hadn't just told them.

Or anything.

"Yeah, I am. We're going to go break down the elevators."

Chase and Cameron bumped into each other and began a discussion on what kind of map and what color pushpins and Foreman looked smug because he liked sandwiches; it was as easy as that.

"How do you plan to do that?" Wilson asked, the never-ending fountain of stupid, plotline-moving questions that he is.

"That's not the right question, Blue Ranger. The right question is how are you going to do that while I stand around and make sarcastic remarks on your progress?" House grinned and hit Chase and Cameron with his cane toward the door as if they were sheep and he were the sheep-herder...and that's so true you can hardly use it as a metaphor.

"Very difficultly." Wilson mumbled but followed House, adding, "what about the base?"

The boxes stirred happily as if to answer his question and sang out in joyous joyous-ness and happy happyness and etc etc. Whatever. They designated themselves to guard the base; because really they didn't have anything better to do because boxes cannot play GameBoys. Poor boxes.

----------

AN: SO cool, review, my darlings, short chappie I know but still good eh?


	4. Chapter 3

Author's Note: In celebration that I've finally finished the play I'm in, I've put this up. I'll have more time on my hands. Well not literally on my hands. That would be incredibly heavy, all that time..anyway, you understand. Thanks for all the reviews, my fans and haters. Mad props, y'all.

----------

"You know what, Foreman? Forget about getting a sandwich. You're coming with us." House waved Foreman over and Foreman looked suitably grumpy, as if he'd been denied lunch...oh _wait_.

"Where? And why? I wanna sandwich." He grumped, grumpily, as he, in a grumpy grump-ish fashion, grumpled his way over to House, grumpy-esque.

House answered his rather grump-ish question by yelling loudly--that is, before being shushed by, well, everyone, "GOING TO SABATAGE ELEVATORS!" Many a person can see why someone would shush someone saying this in a hospital.

But, seriously?

_Fun killers_.

"Fine whatever. Can I have a sandwich later?"

House glared. Foreman returned the glare. House continued to glare. This went on for about a minute until Wilson, wisely, cut in, in fear of this becoming a never ending glaring duel, which he would not doubt either of them of committing. "Move along, come on, elevators aren't going to sabotage themselves..."

And so merrily they rushed forward as if it were a particularly good thing they were doing. Obviously it wasn't. In a hospital people in wheelchairs need to get up those elevators; they could DIE if those elevators get broken down, like say someone on a stretcher or someone having a heart attack...

…oh never mind this _is _PPTH, they don't seem to have those sorts of problems.

Or, er, _patients_.

----------------

"Why on earth does he need a map?"

"Why on earth does he need to be a Power Ranger?" Chase retorted, sounding quite logical, to which the correct response would be 'wow'.

Cameron, apparently, did not read 'Correct Responses to Things Robert Chase Says (Even Though We Can't Figure Out What Makes His Hair So Good)', so she scrunched up her nose in disgruntlement. She had, however, read 'The Idiot's Guide to Stupidly Ignoring Robert Chase (Even If He Is Kind Of a Fag) and Even More Stupidly Falling in Love with Your Socially-Inept, Limping, Drug Addicted Boss (Even If He Has No Interest In You Whatsoever and Instead Is Interested In Doing Something Called A 'Job')'.

They had been about to take the elevator when they'd remembered that House and Wilson were going to break it down.

Clever ducklings.

"Then where're we gonna find a map?" Cameron glanced around the lobby.

"The basement, maybe. Tons of stuff down there. Like that thing House made us find for the kid with the funny marks all over his body..."

"The...burned kid?"

"Yeah; those were it. Burns. He was in a fire, right."

Cameron blinked, staring at Chase with her mouth slightly open as if to say 'uhh what?'. She ought to know this look; she gets it a lot herself.

Chase smiled at her and then started off to lead them to the basement.

Cameron corrected him; that was a bathroom, not the basement, Chase, it was labeled 'BATHROOM' and the other one was labeled 'BASEMENT'. Gosh, Chase, pick up a book sometime. Some good recommendations for his reading zone: 'Cat in the Hat' 'Blue Bear, Blue Bear, What Do You See?' and if he's feeling daring, 'If You Give a Mouse a Cookie' and its riveting sequel, 'If You Give A Moose A Muffin.'.

-------------

Foreman insisted he knew where the control box for the elevators was and after denying his was drunk or high many times, he had got Wilson and House to believe him or just want him to shut up enough. So he led them to a dark closet just off a hallway on some floor and showed them the control box.

"See? This button here. The big red one, that says, 'do not push?' Do nnoooott puuusshh it." He warned them and then slapped House's hand away as it aimed towards the big red button.

Foreman bent over the control box and fiddled with a few things to no effect and then came back up and shrugged. "Need a key."

"What?" House looked shocked; as if it hadn't occurred to him a hospital would have some sort of security measures on their elevators.

"A key. A little piece of metal that you put in a keyhole and unlock things with." Foreman replied, with a straight face.

House smacked Foreman's head, in a not-so-friendly fashion and sighed. "Well damn. Can we do it manually, then?"

Foreman shrugged again. "I guess, if you had the right objects and knew where to put what and to do what where...

"So do you?"

"Yeah."

"Awesome, let's go."

"'Kay."

House and Foreman walked out and onward and left Wilson, gaping at them, wondering if they'd just planned to break down the elevators in the hospital to keep Vogler away.

Well they did.

Keep _up_, Wilson.

------------

"It's like a museum...a scary, hospital, unorganized, never-ending museum..." Cameron whispered, faced with the seeming endless expanse of the hospital's basement.

Anything and everything, it seemed, was down there. Crowded and dusty and something smelled like cookies. Machines and old text books, desks and beds, piles of un-used and out-dated medical supplies, a refrigerator, couches and chairs, more machines, mannequins and CPR dolls, posters and pictures, mountains of scrubs and old clothes, hundreds of books on shelves, anything and everything.

In complete disarray.

And then some stuff that seemed to serve no purpose but filling up space: baking pans, a plastic Crayola Crayon at least five feet tall, feather boas, tinker toys and Legos, potato sacks, skulls, beer steins, a cardboard stand-up of Darth Vader and another of Indiana Jones, tires to a jeep, and tons more.

It was overwhelming.

"Map." Chase stated, shoving things by as he tried to make his way over to a pile of posters. He tripped over a football and landed on top of text books proclaiming the wonders of using feathers to cure colds and grunted.

"Are you okay, Chase?" Cameron asked, rather half-heartedly as she found a collection of aged Barbie dolls and began playing with them.

"No."

"That's nice." Cameron sing-songed and put Barbie in a doctor's outfit and Skipper in a nurse's outfit. Stupid, inadequate Skipper; never good enough to be a doctor, a vet, own a convertible, own a mansion, go on a date with a decent guy, wear the best evening gown, own a Volkswagen Bug, or even have a little dog that barks when you squeeze it. Poor Skipper. Poor, ugly boy-named Skipper.

--------------

Diabilico laughed evilly and coughed, choking on a muffin.

The cafeteria ladies prayed he'd choke and die --as they had been all afternoon- and were disappointed as Vogler recovered and ordered more food.

This is not to say that they did not like people buying food; no, they liked that. What they didn't like was people eating **ALL THE FOOD**. Such as Edward Vogler. Alas, they were too frightened to say something.

Might as well be _nurses_.

----------------

Wilson, sometimes, got the feeling that if he'd never taken this job at PPTH, his life would be a lot less complicated. Like not being a Power Ranger and not having a best friend who also happens to be a druggie lunatic. He remembered his first day at this place and meeting his said best friend. House had came up to him during lunch and sat down and started eating Wilson's lunch and talking with him. Wilson, ever the adaptable creature, didn't say a thing about the lunch bit and talked with him. Wilson was just glad to have someone to sit with; the cafeteria reminded him of high school, there were all these cliques, none of which he thought he'd fit in with. He was the 'newbie', after all, and so he treasured anyone who would willingly to talk to him, even if said person was eating some of his food, well, whatever. And so and so forth, every day until they were good friends and Wilson didn't even know his friend's name and one day they had finished eating lunch and just as House was leaving, Cuddy had come in and she and House had exchanged a few words --loud ones, angry ones, ones which should be censored-- and then Cuddy, who Wilson had met once or twice since working there, had him asked if House had been bothering/assaulting/insulting/attacking him. Wilson, of course, was all, "who's House?" And so there following conversation ensued.

"You...don't know who House is?"

"I've heard rumors, of course, but never met him..."

"That man you were eating with,_ that_ was House."

"Really...? Nah, he wasn't bothering me or anything, we were just having lunch."

"...if he's threatening you..."

"Seriously? Come _on_."

"Yeah, I'm serious. House is a problem here. Always in trouble, breaking rules, taking off from clinic duty, _breaking rules_, ignoring me and anyone with an opinion that differs from his own..."

"You said breaking rules twice."

"He's that much of a problem."

"Why don't you fire him then?"

"Best doctor we got."

"Ah."

"I wonder why he hasn't insulted you, assaulted you, ruined your reputation, framed you for something you didn't do, taped a sign to your back, or anything like that. I am at a loss. Certainly he does all that stuff to other doctors and me..."

"I dunno."

"Cherish it. It probably won't last long."

And years later they were still friends and Wilson had been immersed in the breaking of rules and ignoring superiors and having fun. And ruining reputations. Mainly, his own. By doing things like being a Power Ranger and breaking down elevators. One would think by now he would've gotten used to it, but one would also assume all that hairspray had gone to his head. Oh let's hope so.

-----------

Cameron found the piles of old clothes and cheerily found a old-style dress that fit her--in a vibrant shade of yellow-- and a flowery hat to match and was now showing off to Chase, who couldn't even see her due to being covered in Barbies and stuffing and empty jars of peanut butter.

He sputtered out, "Help?"

But Cameron was too busy squealing and trying to find a pink dress for Chase.

Map? Chase?

Meh.

-----------

Cuddy frowned at her phone.

Of course, there are many reasons one might frown at one's phone. One such reason is maybe they have just been given bad news; such as someone died, someone's missing, the cat's ran away, the party is cancelled. Another reason is maybe the phone has just sprayed fast-acting inky poison into their ear and they will die in 10 seconds, in which case frowning might be a waste of time. This is slightly less likely, but, be warned.

In Cuddy's case it was the first one (surprise). She had just been told House hadn't shown up for clinic. That was not new. But neither had Cameron or Wilson, who also had it now. And Foreman and Chase were not to be found, either.

Ever the optimistic, she hoped they had all been killed instead of what she really feared: the return of Power Rangers.

And those hats.

Those stupid hats.

Couldn't they all matched, at least, she wondered. Obviously she does _not_ grasp the concept of the Power Ranger colors thing.

Her phone rang. She picked it up, hoping it wouldn't squirt ink poison into her ear so she'd die instantly--she got this fear a lot, it was very odd-- and heard a familiar voice.

"Hello, Lisa."

She paused, shocked. No, _not_ the ink poison. Her employees could only get so lucky.

"Err...hello, Edward."

"How's it going?" He asked, his voice muffled by him chewing food--not shocking at all, actually.

"Confusing."

"Oh. Well, I'm at the hospital right now. In the--"

"Cafeteria?"

"--how'd you know?"

"...lucky guess."

"Yeah, so, I'm here and I just wanted to let you know I'm gonna regain control of this hospital and exact revenge on House. 'Kay. Bye bye now."

It was all making sense now. House and his team missing, Vogler showing up...

Cuddy put her hand on her forehead, desperately hoping she'd have a fever so she could go home sick and avoid this trouble. Nope. She picked up the phone, hoping for ink poison. But alas. She was doomed to deal with Power Rangers yet again. Those hats had haunted her dreams and that elephant and gosh, everything.

_Pills_.

Yes, that would be nice.

Some calming pills.

And maybe some wine.

Being a doctor she knew that this was a bad combination, but being a woman on the verge of a breakdown she didn't care.

She pulled out her stash of wine, which, yes, she had to refill often, and ran off to find a pharmacy, hoping there was one near before she remembered...oh! Hospital, of course. After acquiring her pills, she returned to her office, turned off the lights, closed the curtains, locked the door, and drank and took pills.

She did this a lot.

Does that surprise any of you?

---------

AN: Good chapter, says I, the over-caffinated sugar whore. Anyhoo.

REVIEW, my darlinks.

I got flashblack-y in this chapter; who liked that and should I do it more? I did it because I needed those 500-plus words in there.

I went back and spell-checked the previous chapter; it's better now.

And later this week I'm maybe gonna update Super House.

Someone reccomend a good (funny, smart, interesting) book for me to read and I'll love you forever.

REVIEW. It looks better on capslock. EVERYTHING DOES. Well not that, really. Uh. Anyway. Yeah so. Luff to y'all and etc, etc, suggestions and reviews and message me or email me anytime I crave conversations with people like I crave blue PowerAid (which I love and crave often).


	5. Chapter 4

AN: Uh yeah.

-------------

"Superpowers?"

"Superpowers."

House made a face. He had just been informed, by way of Foreman, that to open the box that shuts down the elevators, they would need superpowers. Too bad. House didn't have superpowers. But maybe in some alternate universe...

"Or a fork, some duct tape, and peanut butter."

There was a pause.

"You could've told me that earlier."

"That would've ruined the fun. You know that."

Grumbling, House continued to make his angry face at Foreman. It was a particularly fun face to make, and he did not get to make it enough at Foreman, it was usually directed to the two others.

---------------

Cameron picked up a crayon off the broken stove and tossed it at Chase, who had dug himself out of whatever hole he'd fallen into and was looking for a map but kept on finding posters of old-timey movie stars and getting distracted.

The vibrant yellow crayon hit his neck and he winced from the not-so-great impact.

"Chase!" Cameron sing-songed.

Still wincing, he looked up.

Cameron was holding up a vintage old suit that matched the era Cameron's dress came from: eh, a long time ago. It was dark, blue or black, with matching pants and a dress shirt and a tie. "Put this on." She said, smiling, and really, he had no choice; she had a bucket of crayons next to her. She was all fine with ammunition.

So, reluctantly, he put on the suit and felt embarrassed, but slightly better then he did usually, so he smiled and Cameron swooned. With laughter. Oh well. He liked the suit, it made him have an air sophistication that didn't seem to match the rest of him but it fit perfectly. Cameron, in the bright yellow, somehow matched at his side, although she looked somewhat ridiculous, too, but that was because Chase was used to seeing her in sweater vests lately. What was with those sweater vests, anyway? Sale at Wal-Mart, Cameron? Chase felt like mocking Cameron for her clothing styles, but seeing as how he wasn't much better and she pulled it off SOMEHOW, he resisted the urge.

"It's wonderful." Cameron cooed, giggling. "Spiffy, darling."

Chase felt odd. Like, something had happened right then. Not between them, or anything. But around them. Like they fell, but were still standing. Very strange. Very suspicious. Very plot-key-ish.

It must be the old people smell, he concluded. It was making him woozy. A thought occurred to him: what it all this tale air damaged his hair? Oh no! He must get out of here. So, quickly, as if his life was in danger (well, close enough), he left the basement, dragging an unwilling Cameron with him.

But what they went up those stairs too was not PPTH. In 2006, at least.

-------------------

"A fork. Yes, a fork. And...duct tape? Duct tape. Peanut butter. Got it? Okay, okay, bring it to my office, alright?" Wilson clicked the 'end' button with much difficulty. Why, oh why, was he cursed was such chubby fingers? Yes, he had chubby fingers. Nothing to be ashamed of. When he was in high school, though, it was. Made fun of everyday. He wore gloves but that didn't help. Suicide seemed so appealing. But then! Everyone realized he had wonderful hair and worshipped him like the beautiful hair god he was. But chubby fingers still tormented him. WHY, GOD, WHY!!?

"Why are you staring at your fingers?" Foreman asked, apparently noticing he had been glaring with white-hot fury at his chubby, chubby fingers. House had, too, but only shared one weird glance before resuming slow progress of hitting the elevator control box as if it that would help.

"Er. No reason whatsoever." Wilson replied, mumbling.

"He has issues with his fingers," House said, not looking up, nonchalantly, "He thinks his fingers are chubby. It's like anorexia."

"Well House, it would anorexia if they weren't actually chubby, but they _are_." Wilson burst, almost yelling. He didn't bother to think how House knew this; he had never told anyone 'cept his therapist. And his therapist was dead now. No coincidence at all. What therapist? STOP HARRASING--

"You're fingers aren't chubby." Foreman grabbed Wilson's hand, which he had been shielding in his pocket, and inspected his fingers. "No. Not chubby. Perfectly fine fingers. Now get the hell over it."

His worst nightmare has come true. Everyone was looking at his fingers. And yes they were chubby! How did House know about his insecurity?!? He could hear the voices from grade school now...'Jimmy has chubby fingers! Jimmy has chubby fingers!' over and over and over again...

"For you information, they are chubby fingers. Now leave me alone." Wilson yanked his hand back but Foreman rolled his eyes and grabbed it back.

"Look at my fingers, look at yours." Foreman grumbled. Admittedly, Wilson thought, Foreman's were much bigger then his.

"Fine fine whatever, leave me_ allooone_." Wilson whined and hid his hands again. "I'll go to my office and get the stuff." He made his way to leave but House stopped him.

"Who'd you call, anyway?" House asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh ho oh. If I told you that, I'd have to kill you." Wilson laughed and left, with House calling after him,

"Not like you could!"

As he cautiously took the stairs to his office, Wilson vaguely wondered if he could have plastic surgery on his fingers...

-------------

Cuddy hadn't even bothered to get a glass to drink and had instead chugged it from the bottle. Her phone had been continually ringing for quite some time now, so she'd unplugged it and then, when her cell phone had persisted, smashed that against the wall. She had put a CD in her stereo. Something loud. She couldn't tell what, exactly, because between the loud music and various people pounding on her door, it was hard to hear the music. But that was beside the point. The point was the wine and pills were working. She was feeling calm and relaxed but still angry and would occasionally yell out a cuss word or a cursing House to the 10th circle of hell, because she was in the 9th.

She reviewed her current situation: drinking pills crazy doctors vengeful fat man wine wine annoying doctors more annoying doctors crazy doctors evil nurses pink elephants hungry vengeful fat man.

Not very hopeful.

She remembered the saying, 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.'

This usually did not work for her.

Maybe this once, though...

She looked around her phone to call someone. A very important phone call.

Too bad she was too drunk to plug her phone back in.

Oh well.

There was still another bottle of wine.

That would do until she remembered what happened.

Or until she passed out.

But whatever.

----------

Brenda pounded on the door, and then stopped to seethe.

"Why is she doing this?" She asked a smaller, more vulnerable nurse.

The nurse stuttered, "W-well...Doctor H-house is m-m-missing..."

Brenda continued to seethe.

Ever since the incident a while ago, it had basically been her mission to destroy House--well, then again, it always had been. But now that she had a promotion, it was still her mission. Yes, a promotion. Head Nurse Brenda was now Head Nurse Brenda/Assistant Hospital Manager/Supervisor Brenda. Got it? She had her own office now. Her own computer. And nothing would get it her way to be Head Hospital Manager/Supervisor Brenda.

Or something like that.

----------

"Er." Chase said.

Wise words for such a situation, Chase.

The lobby...wasn't there when they came up the stairs. Instead, it was room full of suited men and women in flowing gowns. Like, say, the ones Chase and Cameron were wearing. At the side of the room, there were tables were people were playing cards or eating or just chatting it up like it was 1899. Which it wasn't, obviously. But it wasn't for sure 2006. This was a not good place for them to be.

Cameron clutched Chase arm and murmured, "Robert..." and for a minute Chase wondered who she was talking to, before remembering _his _name was Robert. Oh yeah.

"We're not in Kansas anymore." Chase mumbled, and Cameron thought briefly, 'how cliché.'

It took Chase a minute to realize that it was PPTH. This must be some sort of benefit ball or something. He could tell by the doors that said, 'Princeton Hospital', and the signs that said 'Welcome to the Princeton Hospital Charity Ball'. Clever Chase.

An usher rushed over to them, thinking they had just arrived. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs..."

At the same moment, Cameron and Chase blushed in embarrassment as being mistaken at being married, and said their last names at the same time. "Chase," "Cameron."

The usher gave them an odd look before just assuming something, "Newlyweds?" He said, smiling. It was an old-ish man, in a black tux.

With no other choice, they nodded and he said, "Mr. and Mrs. Chase?" They nodded again.

"Welcome to the Princeton Hospital Charity Ball. I'll show you to a table, and a waiter will be by soon to take your order but if you prefer, you don't have to eat now..." He trailed off and started walking to a table. Chase and Cameron shared a look and hurried after him.

Chase caught the date on the sign, 'November 17th, 1906," and felt like fainting. 1906? Was he hallucinating? Or had they really fell back in time a hundred years, apparently only to go to a ball? Seriously? A ball? Or maybe they had been brought back to help someone? And how awesome did he look in this tux, with beautiful Cameron at his side? But really, back to the time thing. Was it even possible for this to happen?

When you're a Power Ranger, anything can happen.

---------------

Wilson opened to the door to his office to find a man with a bag sitting behind his desk, reading a few files.

"Hello." he said, sitting down.

"Hey Jimmy." The man said, looking up at Wilson and grinning.

Oh God. This man annoyed him so much. He hated the name Jimmy. He wanted to be James Wilson, MD. Did no one understand this? Not Jimmy. Why Jimmy? He hated the name Jimmy. It was so childish. And it reminded of when he was young and social outcast. Outcast! Jimmy just reminded him of those horrible, horrible memories. They started to come flooding back, but he blocked them and told the man, "James. Not Jimmy. How many times have we discussed this?"

The man dropped the file and counted on his fingers. "At least 27. In the last year."

"Fine. Did you bring the stuff?" Wilson asked, glaring slightly.

"Of course I did, Jimmy. Have I ever let you down?"

His response was a glare.

The man shrugged and handed him the bag. "There you are, Jimmy. Whaddaya up to, anyway? Promise I won't call the cops. I'm lying. I will!"

Wilson's brother in law...or, rather, ex-brother in law, was about 25 to 30 years old and was the second most annoying person he knew. The first was House. The second was this man, Neil. He was from Wilson's first marriage, his first wife's younger brother. When she and Wilson got divorced, he had not stopped bothering Wilson throughout all the years and now, after his third marriage, Neil had not left him alone. He was cursed. But no matter what, Neil was useful. He practically idolized Wilson. Slightly scary. Not so much as scary as annoying and tedious. Wilson had gone to great lengths to avoid Neil and House meeting.

"Yeah thanks _byeee_, Neil." And with that, Wilson had left. Unfortunately, Neil followed him, chatting with him and in general being annoying. Wilson ignored him. He was very good at annoying people. He had a lot of experience, after being friends with House.

-----------

House had pulled out his GameBoy Advance SP and was playing Super Mario with Foreman watching over his shoulder, yelling out instructions.

"No! Not A A A B, A A B A!!!"

"I know what I'm doing, shut up!"

And so on and so forth.

-----------

Vogler roared. "WHAT!?! NO MORE CHEESECAKE!!?!?" And smashed a few things to make his point. It was a very clear point.

-----------

Cameron and Chase felt very awkward. Well, they were in a different century, Power Rangers torn from their natural environment and mistaken for being newlyweds.

"Allison." Chase said, not looking at her.

"Robert." Cameron retorted.

They shared an odd look they burst out laughing.

See what time traveling does to Power Rangers?

------------

Cuddy was writing a letter to the wine company. Or maybe to her father. Wait, wasn't her father dead? Or just living by a cemetery? Oh! Crayons. Why did she have crayons in her office? What was that pounding noise? Was there any more wine left? If there wasn't, who should she kill?

------------

AN: I'm angry at the PowerAde company. They've stopped making Mango Flavored PowerAde. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!?!? I am writing a letter. I have written and sent a letter to Nintendo because the GameCube isn't a cube. They never replied.


	6. It's a chapter: What more do you want?

AN: You are traveling through a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land with boundaries that of imagination. There's the sign post, up ahead, you've just crossed over into...

---------

She had run out of wine.

It was purely and utterly devastating.

But it gave her a while to grasp for reality...and not catch a hold of it. Yet again reality has escaped from her. She needed a net. A gun. Both. No, _just_ a net.

Cuddy staggered to her door and opened it, poking her head out and slurring to a nearby nurse, "Hello, you. Get me a net or...or..." she paused for either effect or due to lack of words, "or I'll sick Dr. House on you. Nyah." The nurse, looking scared out of her wits--or lack thereof-- scurried off quickly, and Cuddy, as an afterthought, shouted after her, "And... a mocha latte." This last part was essential. Cuddy lived for coffee. And wine. But, in her experience, coffee was more accessible at hospitals then wine, for reasons she had not yet discovered...

Satisfied, she shut the door quietly and turned back to her room, suddenly shocked at how messy everything was. Maybe little rodents had come in and messed everything while her back was turned. _DAMN THOSE MESSY RODENTS_. The rats from NIMH, she knew. Smart little bitches had plagued her all her life...

Being in a deciding and action-taking mood, she decided to take action and clean up and set some traps for the damn rats.

She plugged her phone back in and collected the remains her cellphone sadly and performed a funeral and memorial service to them.

IN the corners of the room she set up mouse and rat traps--cheese with little signs that said "**I AM NOT A POISON CHEESE. I AM A CHEESE THAT WILL GIVE YOU THE POWER TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD**." Because as everyone knows, rats like cheese, can read the English language, and want to take over the world with a deadly passion. Duh.

By the time she was finished, the nurse had returned and Cuddy has regained some ounce of sanity and accepted her mocha latte but was confused by the net. "What the hell?" she asked, rhetorically.

Little did she know, at that same time, the same phrase (heard often at PPTH, since--_for some reason_-- sick people kept on showing up and demanding to be helped. wth indeed.) was being spoken all around the hospital.

-----------

"What the _hell_?"

House grabbed the GameBoy from Foreman, who was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest in a smug way of being smug with smugness galore in a smug-ish fashion.

"You must've cheated. That boss is unbeatable." House claimed, and attempted, once more, to triumph over the 4th level boss on Super Mario and once more failed.

Foreman looked on smugly.

"You smug bastard." House swore and then tried to beat the level again.

On the screen, Marion jumped over little boxes, hopped on little boxes, ate some mushrooms, killed some walking mushrooms, talked to a toad and then jumped on the toad and road somewhere.

For reasons he had yet to explain, this game had always fascinated him. It may have been the excessive amounts of mushrooms and the powers they gave Mario--which, now that he thought of it, might've been a euphemism for drugs...what? Mario promoting drugs? **NEVER**. That, House believed, was more Pacman's style.

House was drawn out of reverie by the sound of beeping from the game. "_Dunnndunnndunnnn_."

"DAMN YOU TO THE 10TH CIRCLE OF HELL!" House shouted at the game, and then glanced up at the Foreman. "You, too."

"Red Ranger." Foreman said in a warning voice.

"Black Ranger." House replied.

They glared at each other, both of them realizing this was a dangerous foe and if dragged into battle, it would be a never-ending battle that they would be doomed to participate in until the end of time.

They both relented at the same time. House closed the game and looked away, coughing something incoherent but to the point of 'sorry/whatever/you suck/hate you'. And Foreman dropped his arms and let the smugness leave his body and muttered something to the effect of 'hate you too/ sorry/ you suck/ sore loser'. And so all was forgiven.

Foreman looked at his fingers, wondering suddenly if his fingers were chubby. To deter his thoughts from that touchy issue, he looked up at House and asked, "What exactly is your plan?"

House, for his part, looked mildly surprised and affronted. "Plan?"

The expression on Foreman's face conveyed the following emotions: 'oh shit', 'how predictable', and 'I wish I was a in a jeep falling over a cliff with a bomb in the back seat, a knife in my back, a bullet in my head and poison flowing through my blood, steering wheel afire and plummeting toward my timely and greatly anticipated death.'

--------------

"_What_--" he was interrupted by being tripped and falling on his face, but bravely plowed on, if somewhat unnecessarily--"the hell?"

Wilson, despite landing very ungracefully, and instead of attempting to regain dignity--although some would comment, 'haha, what dignity'--- by standing up in a hurry, he stayed on the ground, sitting up against the wall.

Neil, otherwise known as Wilson's Annoying Ex-Brother-In-Law, aka Hey It's That Guy, because he was seen around the hospital often and was usually referred to as the latter, giggled and then sat down beside Wilson. He was, in fact, the reason for Wilson's fall. Oldest trick in the book; he had stuck his foot out as James walked by and the result was hilarious.

It was not a busy hallway, per say, or a loud one, but it was a major nurse and doctor byway so they were treated to curious, contempt-filled, hateful, or pitiful glances.

As Wilson half-heartedly wondered if he knew any other men who giggled--and on reviewing, yes, he did someone, whose name rhymed with mouse-- it occurred to him that his ankle hurt a spectacular amount and that also, his ankle HURT LIKE HELL. He displayed this emotion by weakly muttering 'owwie' and glancing at his ankle to find it twisted in a way he was incredibly certain that ankles were not supposed to twist into.

In his mind he reviewed what just happened: Neil tripped him, ankle twisted--possibly broken, he thought he heard a crack--; what was happening now: he felt dizzy and embarrassed and wanted to say something to Neil like maybe 'help' or 'fuck you'; and what happened seconds later, which was promptly fainting.

Neil's reaction was to flag down one of the doctors, very calmly, and explained the situation. "My buddy Dr. Wilson here-- you probably know him, he works here as a ...onco...liggy...gostish thing or something, but it's really important and he's really good at it for all I know, which is to say he doesn't tell me much, he's not a good brother...in fact, not even my real brother, I'm his ex-brother-in-law, isn't that a mouthful...anyhoo, he fell down--by no fault of my own..cough cough...and yeah, I think he got hurt. Mind taking a look? If you, you know, not too busy right now, I mean. I wouldn't want to intrude of important doctor stuff. There's a lot of that going on here, isn't there? I thought so. Hey, do think Jimmy's hurt really badly? I hope not. He was doing something REALLY REALLY important, you know. Because he's a doctor. Doctor's do a lot of that. Jimmy was married to my sister, you see, and then they got divorced and we're best friends. He's never told me how old his or when his birthday is or what his favorite color is but_ I'M_ 21 and my birthday is July 17 and my favorite color is purple..."

By this time the doctor had already called a nurse over with a stretcher and taken Wilson away to hospital room so Neil shrugged and followed him.

------------

"What _the_ hell." It was more of a statement, this time, and it was in the past, but it was being spoken none the less.

Chase had stated it then stood up to offer his hand to Cameron, asking, in his charming accent, "May I have this dance?"

Cameron, laughing, said loudly, "No." but then smiled and stood up to join him.

It was all so sickening, the dancing couples and happy couples and young couples and old couples, Cameron and Chase kept on giggling. In general they were being horrible Power Rangers.

But suddenly, a loud, familiar voice made Chase turn away and look around.

It was coming from over near the poker tables, which were clouded by a cloud of cloudy smoke.

He excused himself from Cameron, but she ignored him and followed him to the poker tables and they both let out silent gasps at the group playing there. More specifically, three people sitting there.

One with mussed gray hair covered by a black top hat sort of hat. He had cigar between his teeth, and a beard covering his face. The man sitting next to him didn't have a cigar but was grinning happily, laughing at something the grey-haired man had said. He had sort of floppy brown hair, and sported glasses and a mustache. The men both wore suits, the grey-haired man a darker one with a red tie that was loosened and the collar of his shirt flipped out. The younger man, clad in a blue suit, was neat, with his tie tight and his collar tucked in.

The woman across from them was looking affronted but amused at the older man. She held a fan to her face. She wore a frilly, flowing purple and dark blue gown that was extremely low cut in the bosom area. Her dark hair had been fashioned into cascading curls, framing her stern but lovely face.

Chase and Cameron stared.

Chase's mind was racing with theories, but the most obvious was: ancestors of House, Wilson, and Cuddy? Which seemed unlikely, to be sure, but so did the time-traveling thing...and the Power Ranger thing. One would expect them to get used to it. But one should remember who one is referring to: Robert Chase and Allison Cameron, not the brightest Bradys in the bunch.

The three were alone at the table. 1906 Wilson tried to sneak a peek at 1906 House's cards but he swatted them away. 1906 Cuddy, while House was busy at that, caught a glance at his cards and then shared a look with Wilson and smiled. 1906 House did not, apparently, notice.

In a state of shock, the two Power Rangers but 2006 wandered back to their table and shrugged at each other, befuddlement, as it often was, scrawled across their faces.

-----------

"W_hat_ the hell?!?"

Edward Vogler was a man who believed a treadmill was a factory where they made shoes. He thought Trans fat were extra good for you. He felt like there should always be a McDonald's sign on the horizon. He was certainly not a man to eat low-fat cake.

Which was why he was calmly telling the cafeteria ladies that he didn't want low-fat, low-sugar, or low-carb anything, alright? He was on a mission, he explained, to kill House, he insisted. At the words 'kill' and 'House', the ladies perked up and tracked down some fat-filled sugar-filled carb-filled food object for Edward Vogler, because anyone who didn't like House was their bestest friend **EVAH**. Even more so the ones who wanted to kill that bastard. Because they didn't like him either. He was the plight of their cafeteria; the reason they were grumpy all the time...and now Vogler had gained some allies in his war against Doctors Who's Named Rhymed With Mouse. That was the name they decided; they decided to be unspecific and vague. Also, it would allow them to attack Dr. Shouse and Dr. Kwouse.

Poor Dr. Shouse and Dr. Kwouse.

------------

AN: ...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

Hey, I just watched one of my favvy House episodes: Mob Rules. My favorite moment: Wilson and House in the 65 Corvette: "the 66 came with a shut up button." Also, it's 1st season, which is to say everyone but Cuddy and Cameron have great hair. Also, Wilson is adorable--more so than 2nd or 3rd. Ditto with Chase.

I just made spritz cookie. Shaped like dogs, stars, camels, flowers, more stars, more flowers. Camels? I know.

Right. Review and stuff. Love y'all, by the way. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. The No Life Club, my metaphorical beta, my bestest friends ever, all y'all. Tell me what you think. Angry at the Chase/Cam stuff? Happy that Wilson is injured? Confused by Cuddy? Join the club.


	7. Not Chapter 7 More like Chapter 6

Author's Reluctant Note: it's been so long. Glad I'm behind a computer. ONLY YOUR WORDS CAN HARM ME.

---------

ONE HOUR LATER...

Dr. Shouse ducked as a tongue depressor soared toward his head. This was the 4th time in the last 30 minutes it had happened. Suspicious, that...

------

Dr. Kwouse pushed his desk in front of his door as a barricade to block forthcoming attacks. Somebody had been chucking stethoscopes at him! Must...hide...

------

Diabilico thought this was a good idea; the whole 'having a team of lackeys' thing. It obviously seemed to work for House. But so did the cane thing...unfortunately, Vogler, thought, a cane would not be sufficient to hold his weight. What with being morbidly obese and all. At least, that's what they told him. And then they gave him some medicine that would "help" him and told him to eat less...well, just eat less, they begged. The doctors, that is. Pshaw. Doctors...hey! House was a doctor. There's another reason for me to hate him, reasoned Vogler happily. Also, he can pull off a scruffy-rugged look! Grr! Vogler hated him for that! Because Vogler was only able to pull off the evil-yet-sophisticated look.

---------

"Where am I?" The Blue Ranger muttered. In retrospect, it was not the best question to ask. But it was the first to come out of his mouth. He wondered, in anyone else in such a situation as his, would ask anything else. Well, some people might ask for a sandwich. A sandwich _would_ be nice. No, wait. Where was he? There were usually three answers for that, in any situation: hospital, home, or House's. He guessed the hospital.

"The hospital." A voice answered. Now Wilson felt like an idiot.

"Huh really." He mumbled back, closing his eyes.

"Yeah really." The voice said.

Wilson groaned. He had every reason to. He remembered what happened. Oh, he had made a fool of himself and his Ex Brother In Law was hanging around and House had wanted him to do something like bring something to him or make lunch or change the TiVo so it would record Blue's Clues. Wait, that was last week.

"You hurt your ankle." It was a nurse, talking to him. Please, he begged, don't let it be one of those who worship me. He opened his eyes. It was a new nurse, brown haired and brown eyed and around the age of the other nurses, young, but obviously with some amount of sense.

"Urgh." Was his eloquent reply.

She chuckled. Not giggled. Not even a hint of a giggle. It was a _sensible chuckle_. Not an annoying giggle.

I'm in love, he thought vaguely.

"Now, Mr. Wilson..." she began, and this time, he chuckled. But it came out as a groan because she was fiddling with his ankle and _wow _that hurt.

He glanced around. Neil wasn't there. He had probably run away. Forever. Or maybe that was just Wilson's dearest wish.

"We think you might've broken your ankle." She continued, and Wilson replied, somewhat groggily,

"Then I better cancel my BASE-jumping competition."

And she chuckled again.

"Mr. Wilson, do you--"

"It's doctor." He felt brave enough to say.

"Excuse me?" She blinked at him, in a blink-y way. Wilson noticed she had big eyes. Pretty eyes.

"Doctor Wilson, it's _Doctor Wilson_. I work here. At PPTH. I know Cuddy and Brenda The Evil Nurse and Marco The Depressed Pharmacist, have you met him? He's a good guy; very bad at golf. And House, I know House, you've probably been warned about him...he's a lunatic and I haven't met you before."

She blinked again.

Wilson wasn't quite sure if he wanted to love this girl if she blinked so much. Their children would be freakish.

"Well, Dr. Wilson, I'm new here and..." A slight ringing sound interrupted her. Wilson recognized it. It was his cellphone/Power Ranger morpher.

The nurse, being all nurse-y and blinking more, found it and smiled at Wilson before answering it for him. Obviously, this was a disaster in the making because before she could even say something, someone on the other line yelled something that sounded like, "BLUE RANGER!" and she made a face before handing the phone to him.

"Hello, Gregory." Wilson greeted his friend.

"BLUE RANGER!" House yelled. "When speaking over insecure phone lines, Power Rangers MUST refer to other Power Ranger in code names! Back me up, Black Ranger!" In the background, Foreman did not back him up; instead he questioned him with, "Wtf?"

"Okay, Red Ranger. What happened to Red Ranger is allowed to yell at everyone BUT the Blue Ranger?"

House paused. "Faulty line! Can't hear you!"

"Oh pshaw." Wilson pshaw-ed.

The nurse, blinking and making a confused face, left the room. Wilson sighed, the depression of lost love overtaking him.

"Where are your locations, Blue Ranger?"

"Uhm. Room 342."

"...what?"

"I, er, got hurt. And..."

"Great job, Blue Ranger. Do you know that Pink and Yellow haven't showed up, either?"

"I did not. But thanks to you, my hopes of happiness of love went down the drain; shattered, lost forever...my one true love..:"

"What are you talking about? I'm right here." House replied in a lilting voice.

Wilson sighed and, with the drugs laying heavily upon his senses, he played along.

"Oh, House, don't make fun of our love-hate relationship. I can't handle it now. Between you and this woman--"

"Woman?!" House gasped, shocked at Wilson's non-betrayal.

"---my emotions are so mixed up. I'm breaking up with you, Greg." He said it in his Serious Voice. That was when the Nurse Of His Dreams walked in and blinked, eyes widening, hearing 'breaking up' and 'with you' and, a bigger cue then all, "GREG." She blinked again, turned, and left.

"Jimmy! Jimmy whyy!? I thought you looovved me." House began in his role of heartbroken boyfriend but by the end it was a lifeless cry and he added, dejectly, "Foreman's not believing it. He's heard it too many times. We can still fool Cameron and Chase, though..."

"Yeah, that nurse I didn't mentioned but meant to, the one I am in love with? Just heard the breaking up part. Now I bet she thinks me and you are...ahem." He sighed, again, this time in true sadness because the Love Of His Life thought he was gay but ohh now at least she knew he was single.

On the other end of the phone, House broke into uproarious laughter. "Oh like all the other nurses didn't already think that."

"What? House, what have you been telling them and I should I even bother to try and fix this?"

"No."

"Grr."

"Okeydokey, I'll see you in a few minutes. We're coming to break you out. Look for the signal in 10 - 15 minutes."

"Wait--I BROKE MY ANKLE!! I CAN'T BE A POWER--" the tone dial hummed at him in defiance. He growled again. It occurred to him, was he suddenly turning into a kitty-cat?

Could he still be House's friend if her were, in fact, a kitty-cat?

Or a Power Ranger?

A Power Ranger kitty cat, maybe...

------

"I wonder if House slipped something into our drinks."

"I wouldn't put it past him."

"This can't be real."

"Wow."

"Uhm, yeah."

"This is weird."

"Unbelievable."

"What to do, now?"

Chase and Cameron, stuck in 1906, were found confused and curious.

And then they found themselves going close to 1906 House, Wilson, and Cuddy. Just to be, er, curious.

"Madam," drawled 1906 House, his blue eyes staring at Cameron, "I don't mean to be too straightforward--but I want you to bear my offspring." He said, in his Serious Voice. The table he sat at laughed. Well, not the table itself--the people sitting at the table. The mistake is understandable.

"Uh." Cameron flushed bright pink and it contrasted with the yellow dress heavily.

"Well, Dr. House, it seems you're going to have a bit of trouble with that--she seems to have a lovely beau already." 1906 Cuddy said, then snarked, "And Dr. House pales in comparison to such a fine specimen."

Chase made a face, and then grinned slightly.

"Join us, young lovers, and we'll see if we can't cheat you out of some compensation money." 1906 House offered Chase and Cameron, and caught up in the situation, had to accept and try to play some poker.

Cameron wished they would stop being mistaken for lovers.

Chase wished Cameron was his lover.

1906 Wilson, as he shuffled the cards and 1906 House watched the cards closely, asked kindly, "So, what field of work are you in, Mr...?"

"Chase." Chase supplied, "Robert Chase. And my bride-to-be, Allison Cameron."

"And we're doctors." Cameron added, slightly miffed at being introduced by Chase.

"A foreigner and a woman, doctors?" 1906 House remarked.

"It's a brave new world, Dr. House." 1906 Wilson said, dealing the cards, "and you need to keep up with the times. For instance, Dr. Cuddy here can wear ludicrously low-cut dresses and act like a tart and still hold a position of power."

"Why Dr. Wilson." 1906 Cuddy swatted at him.

"She never knew you were such a fan." 1906 House commented while peeking at Cuddy's cards.

Chase and Cameron shrugged and mentally started comparing 1906 House 'n Friends to 2006 House 'n Friends and didn't find much.

Except for the Power Ranger thing.

---------

"Bl...bl...psst...psst! BLACK RANGER!" The Red Ranger lightly shoved the Black Ranger, then, reviewing that, shoved him really hard as that was much more his style. "Waake. Up."

Foreman shot up and mumbled, "Wasn't me."

"What do you think of me curing Alzheimer's?"

"Why? Can you?"

"No. Just a question."

"Ah. Hey, have you heard the rumors..."

"...which ones..."

"The one about you and, er, the Blue Ranger."

"Why Black Ranger how dare you even insinuate that..."

"Well it's not without precedents."

"...I made those rumors up."

"Really."

"Really."

"Any particular reason?"

"Now Wilson can't get a date. Speaking of, we must put on our shining armor and knightly ride in to save him."

"From what?"

"Anesthesia."

--------

Said drugs were making Dr. James Wilson very happy at the moment. A plus was there was no annoying ex in law brother or doctor who's named rhymed with mouse or The Nurse of His Dreams.

The Nurse of His Dreams was, at the moment, outside, speaking with other nurses, whom she found, well...idiots.

She probably shouldn't say that aloud. She figured.

As a whole she liked to believe herself as a very sensible and kind person, with enough ambition to be a nurse but not enough to actually shoot for something else in life. It was either nurse or teacher and she mostly despised kids.

Probably another thing she should keep to herself.

She did, as often as possible, keep to herself.

Her father was a fireman.

She found this somehow important to how she was raised and who she grew up to be.

In high school she played softball. This is not to say she actually played. She sat on the benches and brought cookies for people.

Laney Elis also didn't think she much liked Dr. Wilson, her newest patient. Too scatter-brained, he would seem, staring at her too much, odd friends, rambler, and oh he's gay.

Or so she gleaned from a snippet of overheard conversation.

And as she reported to the other nurses, who all squealed and jumped around excitedly. In the far off distance Laney thought she heard a patient crashing and wondering, if all the nurses are here...

"OHMYGOSH DID HE REALLY SAY THAT?!?!"

...then who was helping the patient?

Laney wondered if she cared enough about working here to see.

There were two men coming down the hallway. One, the older man, who walked with a limp, cane, and the air of one who is very rude around him, was wearing a red baseball cap dipped low over his face. The other, a younger, dark-skinned man in a doctor's white jacket and a reluctant look about him, had the same type of hat, but in black.

Laney blinked at them.

No, she realized, pretty sure she didn't care about working here that much.

-----------

Marco the Depressed Pharmacist, as he was referred to, in case of any other Marcos, was, in a word, depressed.

And angry.

It occurred to him they should not let the depressed and angry man around the drugs.

But _he_ wasn't going to stop them.

In the cafeteria, a large black man and the cooks were doing something conspicuously evil. And slightly more interesting, there was no cake left.

Marco was depressed.

--------

AN: Love y'all please review. Also I have cake. LEMON CAKE.


End file.
